


Cybertronian!Reader Works

by promking



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Minor Violence, Multi, Size Difference, Smut, Yandere, more characters added as i go along, rated mature cause ill prolly throw some smut in here eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promking/pseuds/promking
Summary: One-shots of various characters/reader that I posted to tumblr and thought I would collect here as well, since I don't use this account often enough.





	1. Team Bonding: Tarn/Reader

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this type of content lemme know at my tumblr: rawmeknockout
> 
> you can even request something if you want idk

It was just a mission debriefing, nothing more. Despite this fact, you were more nervous than you had ever been and it showed in the subtle shaking of your knee joints. This would be your first one-on-one conversation with Tarn.

You had taken direct orders from Megatron before! You had no reason to be so nervous around a bot that your lord outranked. But it was surprisingly easy to talk to Megatron as long as you followed his every word.

With Tarn, it was impossible to know what he was thinking if he didn’t say it. His face plate and his large form hid bodily cues you were used to picking out of people; reading their emotions. There was no reading Tarn.

So far, your time as part of the DJD had been surprisingly pleasant. You got on well with them, even though you had only been part of the group for a short while. It helped that Megatron had personally announced your initiation into the DJD. Every member, including yourself, seemed eager to please him in whatever he desired.

But you felt like an outsider. It’s not that you weren’t powerful or even that you weren’t as dedicated to the job, but you just didn’t find the same joy in eviscerating enemies. You preferred when the job was done without flourish or error. In fact, one quick bullet to the helm and you would call it a job well done.

Torture just wasn’t efficient, no matter how many times Kaon insisted you just needed to find what sparked the flame of creativity in you.

You had done your job well, you thought. You had gone out on your own and taken care of your target, as you always did. But your nerves told you that Tarn would find something wrong in your report. Perhaps you should have been a bit more attentive to detail. Perhaps you should have made the deserter suffer more for his crimes against Lord Megatron.

But he was dead and there was no going back on your mission now. There was only you, sitting in Tarn’s office alone and waiting for your inevitable (disastrous) mission debriefing.

You were shaken violently from your thoughts at the sound of Tarn entering the room, coming around your side to stand at his desk with more grace than he should have been allowed with his large frame.

‘Like a pitviper…’

“Excuse my tardiness. I had a check up with Nickel and it ran late.” Tarn spoke with such clear diction and flat tone that you couldn’t help but be at ease. That’s how he sounds no matter the situation, you had noticed.

“About your recent mission,” You straightened at that, not noticing when your shoulders had begun to curve inward, “Everything went well, I assume? Lord Megatron seemed very confident in your abilities.”

“Well, I’ve been doing this,” You gestured in a nondescript way, “For a long time. It would be inexcusable if I didn’t at least do my job to the base standard.”

Tarn simply made a small noise of agreement in his throat as he stared at you over his desk, red optics seeming to strip you down to your basic elements.

You simply sat there, unable to move without feeling scrutinized, unable to even meet red optics that most decepticons shares. But this was different. This was Tarn.

Your leader stood, circling around the desk and, consequently, about the chair you were seated in. He came to a stop behind you, hands heavy where they now rested upon shoulders plates.

“Relax,” Was all Tarn said. A sigh you didn’t know you were holding escaped you, chassis sagging with the effort of having to hold your spinal strut ramrod straight for so long. “You will find I’m much more… forgiving towards my teammates than you give me credit for. I expect nothing but your devotion to Lord Megatron’s will. However you wish to go about satisfying him is, of course, at your own discretion.”

Strangely, that did make you feel better. It helped that his servos, bulky as they were, rubbed small circles in your tensed neck cables. When had you carried so much stress there? You felt your body relaxing more against your seat, eyes drifting closed.

“You know, there is always time to find a way to bond. It’s important for us, as members of the Justice Division, to be as close as possible. We must rely on each other. For everything.” His voice sent shivers down your back. He had leaned down much closer than you realized, when had he done that?

“If you want, I would be happy to use this evening to bond with you.” You nodded numbly, one of your servos coming up to catch his own as it gently cupped your jaw.


	2. Rough Day: Helex/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> size difference is the only kink allowed in heaven

It took you several moments to get over the ache in your joints and go back to your self-care routine; brushing the grime out of your joints with a wire brush. Your legs protested the bulk of Helex from the minute he laid his tired body down on your lap. After he got comfortable you were ready to squeal with pain at the pressure he was placing on your much smaller body.

But you had allowed him the rare chance to lay on your lap because of his rough day, and you couldn’t go back on your offer now. Not with how he was acting. All you knew was he and Tarn got into a little verbal scuffle, Helex obviously being overruled in decision-making through Tarn’s own version of democracy. When you asked, Helex had rudely brushed you off and threatened you like the unreliable source he is.

Although there wasn’t much you could do to cheer him up, you felt that perhaps letting Helex rest on a comrade would lift his spirits. After all, they say a shoulder makes the best pillow. From the way he sighed for the tenth time in as many minutes, it was looking like it wasn’t working.

He should have been grateful! Your finish was perfectly gleaming so the fact you allowed him to lay on you, let alone touch you, was a marvel in itself. No bot could ever say you weren’t generous and caring. And beautiful. And humble.

“Stop breathing so heavily! It’s bad enough your core temperature is through the roof.” You complained, fanning your heated face. You would never do another good deed so long as you lived. It was already physically taxing to brush out your joints, but it was exhausting to do so in a hot environment.

“I was almost relaxed. Why can’t you keep your big mouth shut?” Helex shifted against your thighs, heavy helm digging into your hip where he had his face pressed in. If anything his mood had worsened since being around you, go figure.

With a sigh of your own, your hands came down from their plucking and preening to rest on Helex’s back. “I’m allowing you to lay on me while I groom and this is how you repay me? Come on, it was one disagreement. You’ll get over it.” Your words of encouragement were brushed off as he turned up his helm to glare at you.

It was several tense moments of silence when you wondered if you had really done it now. You had pissed off Helex and he was never going to like you again and then Tarn would be mad at you. That just wouldn’t do!

Carefully, you worked the bristles of your brush into the crevices of Helex’s back-plating, brushing away the remnants of whatever he had gotten into while out annihilating traitors. It was tiring to brush one’s own joints, but it was a luxury to be taken care of so fondly. You remembered, barely, how your own creator used to lovingly care for and pluck at you. Distant memories that were like a dusty fog in your mind now.

Helex finally seemed to relax at your treatment, tight cables and stiff posture melting away at the grooming to easily let you do what you wished. The giant bot’s hand came up to grasp your waist, dwarfing it like a star and its planet, in an appreciative gesture at your care.

It must have been the peaceful look on his normally intense face that had you leaning over to place gentle kisses over his helm and down to his jaw when he tilted his head to the side for your access. He gave no response to your ministrations other than the low rumble of his engines and his body growing a bit hotter.

Your hands were barely moving now, the scraping of the brush doing little to clean out his joints, when you started to trail them up and down his back.

Minutes seemed like seconds as he finally started to drift off into recharge, both sets of arms grasping desperately at you for comfort and affection while your hands rubbed about his back and up over his shoulders. Until, of course, someone had to ruin your perfectly good bonding moment.

“Can’t you two get a room where the rest of us don’t have to see you?”

“Are you jealous, Tesarus?”


	3. Captive: Kaon/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uuuuh i have no excuse for this an also ill stop doing just the DJD after this gomen
> 
> two short chapters today cause i wanted to stretch my dirty writing muscles
> 
> might expand on this particular chapter later

Kaon first saw you scrambling about on the battlefield.

The DJD had intercepted your small group of Autobots on a desert planet to brutalize your captain for information regarding a certain traitor; taking your colleagues down as collateral damage.

You were just a medic. Not a particular threat with your frame or your dinky gun for protection. In fact, Kaon would have looked right over you if not for all your wailing as you watched one of your comrades get torn apart by Tesarus. The shocked, horrified look on your face could have killed Kaon and brought him back to life.

He didn’t think he had ever, or would ever again, see something as stunning as you.

You weren’t the target, but no Autobot could escape the DJD for long. Still, Kaon felt no compulsion to chase you as you weaved around Tesarus and Helex, before you attempted to flee to what was left of your crashed ship.

If it weren’t for Tarn grasping your thin neck, perhaps you would have made it to an escape pod. Not that it would have done you much good.

Tarn would have tossed you to Helex if it weren’t for Kaon coming to your aid. Although he couldn’t overrule their leader if he wanted to, Kaon felt he had enough pull to get what he wanted. Tarn knew he liked keeping pets.

It wasn’t easy to convince the others, but Kaon won in the end. You were a hard-fought prize in the middle of the war. Something he could hold close and cherish, as a sign of his devotion to the cause. Kaon thought you might feel at least slightly flattered.

* * *

 

Even now, months after your capture, you squirmed away from Kaon’s touch. He treated you like a doll and yet you fought him every step of the way. At least you had stopped trying to escape. You learned quickly the first time he caught you attempting to leave.

But now Kaon nearly had to force feed you every meal to keep you from wasting away. Your reluctance had waned only slightly when he threatened to leave you at Helex’s mercy. He hated to threaten you so, but Kaon couldn’t have the others seeing you disobey him so openly. They might decide you were too unruly for your own good, and everything Kaon did was for you.

Even the soft kisses he planted along your thighs were to make you feel good. And when he whispered how divine your valve felt around his spike, it was to encourage you. Endear you to him. Show you how much he truly loved you.

Even with all the fighting, he still loved you and he would continue to love you just the same for eons to come.


	4. Finder's Keepers: Swerve/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you want a yandere, sometimes you are the yandere

“Frag, Swerve! _Swerveswerveswerve_ -,” Your clawed fingers scratched up the paint along Swerve’s lower back, points digging in between the edges of his armor-plating to accidentally brush at the metal underneath.

Swerve didn’t notice the scratches to his paintjob, or if he did he surely didn’t care, from his place hovering above you. The minibot’s head barely met your chest, but what he could reach with his mouth Swerve smothered in soft kisses in between his own nonsensical babbling.

He praised how warm you were around him, how beautiful you looked beneath him, how he never expected someone like you to want someone like him. If you were in your right mind you might respond to this with reassurances, but Swerve’s thick spike was messing with your processor where all you could do was keen and buck up against him.

You were so close to overloading that you could feel the tingling from your pedes to your helm.

This was what you had been fantasizing about since you met Swerve. Since you had met eyes and felt an instant attraction. He put up with your morbid fascinations, with your dry wit, and with your creepier quirks. Swerve was so trusting and genuine that he never expected anything bad from you. Why should he? All you did was try to befriend him. Do what was best for him.

Even with Swerve’s spike thrusting in and out of you at an erratic pace, with your own oversensitive spike pressed against his stomach, you still couldn’t overload. Not until Swerve came inside you with a stuttering moan.

He followed it up with a string of I love you’s, his expression wrecked and body shaking as he attempted not to fall on top of you.

His confession alone had you overloading, valve clenching around him and long legs seizing about his waist to keep his smaller form in place. Your claws left harsh, jagged lines down his back plating.

Swerve slurred out an apology for finishing so quickly, face still heated from your activities and from his own embarrassment. But your servo found it’s way behind his helm to press his forehead to your lips. The dopiest smile spread across his face, his own arms tentatively winding around what he could reach of your torso.

You kept him close in recharge, arms coiled around his smaller body. Firm but not tight. You finally had what you wanted. He loved you! Swerve would never get away now.


	5. Rung/Reader/Whirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> follow me on rawmeknockout.tumblr.com where staff loves to fuck me over

Rung had been targeted by you and Whirl. Prey to be hunted down and seduced. He never would have acted on his desires if you two hadn’t been so forward. The warmth of Whirl’s body while he leaned in, one arm sling over Rung’s shoulder, and how you applied the tenth swipe of glossy lacquer onto your lips that night were a beacon for his attention. A light in his hazy mind as he vaguely remembers inviting you two back to his habsuite.  
It had been a long time coming. He saw the way your gaze swept over him when he walked into a room, your body rested against Whirl’s side but your optics focused solely on Rung. He never could tell what you and Whirl whispered about, exchanging glances toward him in a way that you didn’t attempt to hide. 

It made his body hot to think you perhaps thought of him in the berthroom when with Whirl. Perhaps you discussed with your conjunx all the things you wanted to do to Rung. But he had never fully given it much thought, because he didn’t intend to become entangled in your relationship. Rung wouldn’t want to damage your trust or Whirl’s. He cherished you both.

But watching the way you swallowed his spike, your optics never breaking contact, had Rung rethinking his whole approach. How could something that felt so good be wrong?

His focus bounced all over the place: from your derma, to your optics, to the way Whirl leered at him, even as he was fragged you from behind. It was so much attention. So much heat in a way he wasn’t used to.

Whirl’s claw caressed down the side of Rung’s face as his lone optic watched you bob and kiss at the spike in your mouth, obviously quite enamored with the way your glossy lips parted and puckered.  
Rung would know because it was hard to not watch you, so dreamy and sensual in everything you do, lavish him with your licentious attention. You had so carefully picked apart his self control without him even knowing, and he wondered if this is how you came to be with someone like Whirl. So usually aloof with his romantic interests, not reaching out to grab what he so desperately wanted.

Your attention was hard to shake. Even in such a subservient position, kneeled before them and moaning lewdly, you were obviously in charge. A viper coiled.

You looked up at him with those soft bedroom eyes, a small cheeky smile on your face. He was melting under you, his engine humming loudly and his vocalized unable to produce more than a single word for more.  
“Come on, Rung. Overload on my face so I can get off.”

He didn’t know if it was the crude command, or the way you stared up at him with that needy look while Whirl pounded you into the berth, but Rung instantly snapped his hips upward into your hand. Against your soft lips. His transfluid hit your face and dripped down your neck obscenely, but you just smiled at him and kept stroking his spike. Your soft tongue was already pushing him to overstimulation, as it traveled down to flick at his node.

“We’re not done yet, four-eyes. My sweetspark is gonna suck the life out of ya.”


	6. Whirl/Maternal!Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if u follow me on tumblr this won’t be new

Prowl hated him.

Prowl wouldn’t even say his name, because he would never be part of Prowl’s life. Certainly not like you were.  
You were not Prowl’s creator, he would always adamantly deny even the idea of you caring for him, but if he was attached to you it was only from your constant doting. It was just instinct that attaches him to you in such a way.

No, you two did not share similar coding, but anyone could see you were just too good for him.

He saw the way that mech looked at you, with such a sickening gleam in his eye covered by a facade of infatuation. It made him ill to even see you cuddled up to that one-eyed wonder, a soft look on your face like he’d never seen. How could you be so naive?! You were one of the oldest mechs around, and you were taken in so suddenly by a mech with not even half your decency!

It was bad enough just having to watch you two make lovey optics at each other every second of the day, but you did things Prowl thought inconceivable of you.

You were so gentle and sweet, a soft light in a world left darkened post-war.

But Prowl would never be able to look in your optics again without recalling the moment he walked in on you and that mech, your helm between his spread legs as he moaned such lewd things at you.

Prowl had discussed with Jazz the best course of action. Of course, Prowl wanted to dispose of that damned cyclops at once. Shoot him into the nearest star and hightail it before you caught wind of his whereabouts.  
Jazz spent two weeks talking Prowl out of that particular plan.


	7. Skids/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i actually really like this one

Just beneath the thin metal of the vent, you could hear the hustle and bustle of the bar. You could make out specific bots if you listened close enough, but just the thought of being caught by your close friends was making you nervous. Skids had assured you that you wouldn’t be caught, but sometimes he could be all talk.

Still, you had let him lift you into the vents and indulged his exhibitionist fantasy.

Instead of the bar you focused on Skids’ thick fingers as they pumped in and out of you. The way his large body covered your own, making you feel strangely protected and dominated all at once. His lips were moving, whispering sweet encouragements into your ear, but you were too focused on the heated metal of his interface panel that pressed into your ass. The faintest pulsing of his spark from where his chest plates barely pressed against your back.

Skids’ large hand quickly came to cover your mouth as you let out a sudden moan, your hips rolling and pressing down into his servo. It was close, you almost thought you noticed the buzz of the bar stop but the talking had only ceased from the blood rushing in your ears.

What would the others think? Knowing you were letting Skids toy with you where the slightest slip up could get you caught. What would they think if they saw? How would they react to knowing you got off to the idea of being watched? Perhaps they would demean you, think of you as just a dirty human. Would they find pleasure in watching you get dominated by Skids in such a way?

You would never admit it, especially not to the bot who was whispering praise in your ear, but the thought of getting fucked by your colleagues had crossed your mind. How could it not with how gentle Rung was with you, or the way Rodimus grabbed you by the waist in a hug everyday, or how Ultra Magnus smiled at you in appreciation for all your hard work?

Skids whispered that you were so good, so incredibly good for him, and you came to his praise and the fingers still buried deep inside you.


	8. Nickel/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nickel i forgot to post gomen

In few words, it had been a rough day. While most weeks, being in the DJD made you feel like you were unstoppable and powerful and righteous, there were others when you faced your own mortality. When your limits smacked you in the face to humiliate you in front of your teammates. And while the rest of the team had gone straight to Nickel’s medbay to be checked out after battle, as was routine, you had slunk off to your private quarters to lick your emotional wounds.

It wasn’t like Nickel was going anywhere so you would see her eventually, but you didn’t want to sit through Helex’s negging. You already had to deal with the burning shame of Tarn coming to your rescue when you were ambushed like some sort of amateur.

You didn’t get the chance to go to the medbay, however, as Nickel invaded your habsuite only an hour later. Her mouth set in a stern frown, eyes as fiery as ever but also concerned? You didn’t want her pity, but you lean into her care anyway.

“You know checkups are mandatory after battle. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. Maybe Tesarus, but not you.” Nickel clucks as she circles you, working out the large dents that mar your body. She could be a handful, but you know she cares. You can feel it in the way she roughly patches you up, trying to erase the signs of a hard-fought battle. You didn’t always have someone to rely on to take care of your wounds and stop your bleeding, even if it was her designation.

“It’s not like I was avoiding it. I just… didn’t want to talk about what happened.” You look to your feet, hands held awkwardly in front of you, as you let her finish trying to do her best with what she had. Nickel’s fiddling and nudging pushes you around slightly on the wheeled chair you’re in, only adding to your demeanor of ‘petulant’ child.

“Don’t let Helex get to you. He’s just like that, you know.” She rolls her eyes with her last sentence, well aware of Helex’s tendency to bully and bother. Her servos are gentle as she pats the side of your face, thumb running along the high plain of your cheek. The soft contact makes your spark ache in a way. Such tender touches were a luxury for you once, and you would greedily lap up any positive attention over even the finest energon.

“Besides, you need to get humbled. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful!” And in an instant Nickel is pinching your cheek, soft contact replaced by the bite of her fury.

“Yes, ma’am.” You mockingly salute her, which isn’t something she takes jokingly at all if the sudden servos in your neck guard are anything to go by. They pull your face level with her, Nickel’s blue optics blocking your vision. The kindest optics you’ve ever seen.

“I like the way you say that, but get rid of the attitude.” She taps you on the nose with a stern finger, mouth in a frown that threatens to break.

“That’ll cost you.” You sing-song, turning your face to side-eye her coyly.

“Cost me what exactly?” And you have her. Nickel will play your game of back and forth, taking too long to get what you both want but too stubborn to admit it.

“I guess I’ll just have to show you.”


End file.
